Hassan of the Cursed Arm (Alter)
I stir once again. Something is moving. Something more… fresh, than the skeletons aimlessly wandering about. The leyline has been a decent substitute - siphoning from it almost measures up to the thrill of crushing a life between my fingers.
Almost.
But now, two souls have come near to my resting place. Living. Living humans. I had thought that they had all been slaughtered already, but clearly that wasn't the case.
I give the corpse I'm attached to a mental nudge, and the husk of the man once named Hanam awakens.
Kill. Kill them. Rip and tear, devour their hearts. I, Shaytan, demand it.
The husk waits to strike, his training from before I devoured him still remembered by his body. It observes them. A normal human and a servant. And yet, the servant is not quite a servant, still being made of flesh and blood - I can feel her heartbeat from here.
Delicious. Wonderful. Kill them.
They both focus on a magic circle. Summoning. They wish to summon another Servant?
More life to snuff out. How wonderful.
But the husk is worried. A brief, animalistic fear, flaring up from what little of its mind remains its own. It believes we cannot defeat two servants at once. We could seek aid from one of the others, but then they might take all of the killing for themselves.
Unfortunately, the husk is correct.
Fine then. Kill them before they finish the summoning. It can't be helped.
The corpse throws a dirk at the master's throat as we materialize. The servant blocks it with her shield, but in doing so, she overextends. Her shield is out of position, and one of the husk's dirks finds its mark in her left calf.
My arm surges forth as what's left of Hanam mutters a faint "[Zabaniya]." Twisting, writhing, bending, it slithers around her shield, reaching for her heart.
Only, just before it reaches her, something catches it by the wrist. An invisible hand, grappling it and preventing retreat. Were I a human, such pressure would break my wrist for sure.
However, I am no human. The husk severs my arm at the elbow in one blow of his dirk, and we jump back, giving me time to regenerate, a new hand sprouting from my elbow. In the meantime, the severed hand continues to writhe like the broken tail of a lizard, still seeking the Shielder's heart.
The boy yells to his servant not to let my arm touch her - that it will kill her for sure. He has good instincts.
The servant engages us, her shield smashing into the husk and breaking a few of its ribs - not that it matters. So long as its spirit origin remains intact, I shall continue to exist. Any other injuries are superficial.
I reach for her heart again, with her only narrowly preventing contact by batting my arm aside with her shield. She takes a dirk to the abdomen for her trouble, but the wound seals up almost instantly. The master is healing her.
We'll have to kill him first, then.
Disengaging under cover of a volley of dirks, the corpse scuttles towards the boy. I reach out, only to be denied again by an invisible hand.
My previously severed limb has been released - perhaps the invisible hand can only grab one thing at a time?
In that case, then… I'll need my left hand.
The empty shell of Hanam reaches for the metaphysical binding upon my seal, and prepares to invoke our final Noble Phantasm - my right arm pulsing with energy as my body starts to be freed.
The boy's eyes widen, and he lunges for the sheath in the magic circle, which flares with golden light as he grabs it.
(My arm is released from the invisible hand's grasp - about three meters range, then?)
"Beast of hellfire, fiend of the desert…" mutters Hanam.
The girl swings her shield at us, but the corpse ducks beneath it, and she's forced to jump back to avoid my hand.
("Contract, sealed-!" the boy mutters).
"...devour their lives, great Accuser! [Iblis…!" Shouts my host, and my arm writhes as more of my body starts to emerge from his shoulder.
"Shamak!" roars the mage, pointing the sheath at me as black smoke pours out of it.
And suddenly, without warning, the moment the smoke touches the tips of Hanam's toes, I cease to exist.
…
No. That can't be right. I can still think, so I still exist. I can still sense the presence of Hanam's empty husk.
And yet, apart from that, there is nothing. Absolute oblivion. Sensory deprivation.
...So that's the nature of his spell. A sensory disconnect. I can still move Hanam's body, but I can't move my own, because I can't sense its presence. Hanam's shoulder is still jerking around - my arm is still there.
Right, my body has high magic resistance, so such a spell wouldn't affect me.
...So why can I only feel Hanam's body?
…
Oh. I get it now.
I'm... Hanam, aren't I?
Faintly, I hear the tolling of an old evening bell...
***
I, Natsuki Subaru, scramble backwards as the Assassin's crimson arm drags his body towards me. The rest of his skeletal form is limp, but the arm is still moving towards me! What the hell is going on here!?
I had managed to negotiate a provisional contract with the Fairies of Avalon, and cast Shamak in desperation since it looked like he was about to pull out something scary - but what's with this effect!?
Shamak is supposed to be a sensory deprivation spell, not a paralysis spell!
Mash-tan runs toward the Assassin again, pinning its crimson arm beneath her shield, and slamming into it again and again in an effort to break its bones.
Suddenly, the skeletal body, which had been limp since Shamac hit it, draws another of his daggers. Shamak should still be active, and yet - !
"Mash!" I yell, and she jumps back, moving to block the thrown dagger from hitting me or herself.
...But he doesn't throw it. He twirls it in his hand, gripping it like a kitchen knife.
And then, in a single blow, he hacks his own right arm off at the shoulder.
The crimson limb falls, and rather than a new arm sprouting from the Assassin's body, the end of the severed limb shudders, bubbling like a pot of water on a stove as a new, orange-red torso begins to grow out of it..!
"Shit!" I hiss. "Mash-tan, we're going to have to withdraw! We can't take both of them-!"
A head and face emerge from the bubbling red torso. The head is the same red-orange as the rest of its body, with burning crimson eyes and teeth as sharp as stilettos. It grins, and then, suddenly, it shoots forward, that damn arm slithering and twisting towards me -!
Squelch.
The Skeletal Assassin is suddenly between us, his knife embedded deep in the monster's throat. The demon gurgles, and for a brief moment I think I see a flash of blue flame erupt from the Assassin's blade.
And then, in a spray of blood, he removes its head.
…
"Eh?"
What the hell is going on!?
***
Servant Profile
Hassan of the Cursed Arm (Alter)
Parameters
Strength: B
Endurance: A
Agility: A
Mana: C
Luck: E
Noble Phantasm: B
Personal Skills
Projectile (Daggers) C
Self-Modification B+
Battle Continuation E
Class Skills
Presence Concealment B-
Noble Phantasm
Zabaniya - Delusional Heartbeat
Rank: C+
Type: Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm
Iblis Akbar - Glory to the Unbowing One
Rank: B
Type: Anti-Self Noble Phantasm
An absolute heresy. The complete release of the Demon Shaytan upon the world, to revel in slaughter and bring glory to Iblis - a being considered by many to be the same individual as the Hebrew Devil.
Profile
The Old Man of the Mountain, blackened by the tainted Holy Grail. He gave his right arm to the Demon Shaytan, in return for power. However, he underestimated the Demon's influence upon him, and slowly lost his mind.
Not two years after gaining the title Hassan-i-Sabbah, he had it stripped from him, and his head was claimed by an Angel of Death.